


and puck connolly in your bed

by BadOldWest



Category: The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, a lot of cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8636947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/BadOldWest
Summary: He tears his eyes away when Puck shifts next to him, quilt falling to the middle of her strong thighs, her rider’s thighs, and her hip juts up on a perfect curve. She always teases him when she breaks his focus. Even in sleep, she smiles.





	

He wakes up in a bed warmer than any he’s been used to. He’s used to being alone there. It’s not unpleasant for him, but he’s just in an undershirt, and he grows ten degrees warmer by suggestion when he sees Puck lying in her sweater next to him. 

The light is weak, almost clear water instead of sunshine, and he rolls onto his back, glancing past Puck out the window. 

He sees their horses in the paddock out back, tossing their heads and trotting along on their own, seeming ready for breakfast. 

He tears his eyes away when Puck shifts next to him, quilt falling to the middle of her strong thighs, her rider’s thighs, and her hip juts up on a perfect curve. She always teases him when she breaks his focus. Even in sleep, she smiles. 

He smiles too, a little wryly, wrapping an arm around her and lying back down to kiss her brow. 

She lets out a soft sleep sound, her backside rubbing gently against his groin. She’s just as feisty asleep as she is awake, so he still fears waking her up. 

“Kiss my neck,” she requests, half-asleep, already shuddering like the image conjured was enough to start the feelings she wanted. 

He obeys, tamed because he was going to do it anyway. He’s compliant when she asks. But he likes the opportunity to know what she wants before she asks for it. 

“Sean Kendrick,” she whispers as he sucks the curve of her shoulder. She unconsciously tries to shrug him away from the tickling feeling, her body still responding to stimuli as though still asleep. She sighs so nice and ready, face half-buried in a pillow. 

“You like that?”

“Feels s’nice,” she murmurs, voice cracking. His lips work their way to behind her ear. She grabs at the hand he has braced on her arm, drawing it around her and towards her lips. She sucks it into her mouth, giving it a few promising lips until releasing it, drawing his hand up her sweater. The cold has done enough to harden her nipple and his wet finger does the rest. 

She sighs as though she’s just waking up, but breaks her skin away from his lips long enough to turn her head and smile smugly back at him.

“Don’t you have chores?” she teases, snuggling back down. He knows she shares his tenacity. She’d follow him outside to water Dove in a matter of minutes, she just loves to josh him for rising first. As though she could complain about his sense of obligation, it was keeping her in this bed until he she was finished with him, as it did every time she looked at him like that. 

He grunts wordlessly in response, sliding his lips under her chin, a tickly spot she loves when he’s being gruff and obstinate, like he is now.

“You come first,” he murmurs, a vulnerable admittance, and he keeps kissing her the way she loves as she ponders this. 

She brings his fingers of his unbusy hand up to her lips, not kissing with a mapped design, more twisting it under her whim; reaching knuckles, pads of fingers, the soft skin above the webb. 

“You’re a good man, Sean Kendrick,” she whispers against his wrist, where the words will ride his bloodstream to his heart. 

He’s so quiet in bed with her. Which is funny now, because when they first started this, he was the loudest he’d ever been with her - _ is this alright, do you like it this way, or should I…? _ \- she teased him about talking her ear off. But once he knew, once he felt her satisfaction was properly expressed, he was as focused and methodical as ever. 

He pulls the sweater over her head, just the part covering her front, so the sleeves are still on her arms and it’s bunched like a shawl behind her back. She’s half-naked in that grey morning light. Her hair looks so much redder and her freckles so much sharper and her eyes so much brighter. He loves how she looks in the sun, but he felt love was in thinking whatever way you see the person in the moment seems like the best way they can look. She snuggles into the quilt as he rolls himself on top of her. He’s all muscle from riding, capable of holding himself up in a canter from year of practice. As inexperienced as they were the first time they laid together, they had all the necessary training to quickly enjoy and even challenge each other’s bodies. They had grace, if they lacked poise. 

He lowers himself and catches a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, so she’s distracted enough that she won’t think to order him to do what he was going to gladly do anyway. 

She mumbles something about watering the horses. 

“They can wait,” he eases her underwear down, placing a gentle kiss to her lower belly, under her navel. The skin isn’t stretched like a drum anymore. She’s less hungry these days. He savors the fullness that’s growing on her frame. She teases him that it’s novel now, it won’t be cute when she’s old and fat, but he reminds her of riding behind her, sliding his hands over the muscles she’s working, feeling the tightness of her back pressed against his chest. He loves her body. End of story. 

She’s wild, but can be brought to a point of silence that he loves to earn, as much as he loves her wilder still. 

She’s ready. She’s ready for this good man to throw her legs over his shoulders and let her ride his face as he ruthlessly works her. She’s ready to shrug her sweater back on properly, much to his sighing over it, to roll him over and ride him, lifting the hem to flash pieces of skin if he ever broke their locked gaze. As punishment and reward. She’s ready for him to arch his back and breathe like he’s drowning and look like he never let anyone see him look except her.

He can tell this when his mouth is on her. He can trust that about her. They both seem to know what comes next. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy November!


End file.
